


a monologue over wet ground [a variation of Jim]

by f_vikus



Series: two way monologues [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 23:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_vikus/pseuds/f_vikus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is trapped in the space between.  The b-side to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/508967">alone is a new soul</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a monologue over wet ground [a variation of Jim]

The sand is purple, glinting at every angle when the sun hits the ground until all Jim sees is light. It’s bright and beautiful, the ground like the fabled sea glass kept in Earth museums. He can hear the ocean, but he can’t see it, no matter how far he treads. The sand clings to his trousers, and he tries to brush it away, his hands clumsily catching at the fabric. He is not hot at all, even though the sun is directly over him. When he tries to take another step, he trips. He feels like he is trudging through mud, dirt, like the ground is clinging to him. He looks down, and then back, wondering why he’s slipped. He feels weightless, and yet tied down, empty, but his core is bursting with a heaviness he doesn’t understand.   
  
He’s left no footprints behind him.   
  
He sits, half-blind from the light of the sand. This world is over-bleached, the colors leaching into each other. He’s not sure where he is, who he is, but he’s not supposed to be here. He thinks of home, but when he does, all he can see is a deep blue and a lean figure with dark hair, vivid against the bleached tones of this world. He does not understand.   
  
He pockets a small shell, an opaque scalariform specimen with an elegant whorl twisting upwards. When the sun hits the shell, it bursts into golden tones. Jim is reminded of a phoenix unfurling its wings as he watches the shell light up, the colors spreading slowly from the apex.   
  
Then there is nothing.   
  
  
  
\--   
  
  
  
  
When he next opens his eyes, he realizes he’s on the Enterprise, and that he is Captain James Tiberius Kirk. The unsettling haze he had felt on the planet was now gone, and in its place is a sharpness that presses up against his chest uncomfortably. Spock is next to him, as is the security detail. The youngest of the group, Ensign Yuekal, fidgets on the transporter pad and Jim smiles in relief. He’ll see Bones about his chest. It’s probably an allergy. He nods at Scotty, and smiles when he sees Leonard hovering in the back of the room, arms crossed and scowling.   
  
Then Spock turns his head, and Scotty says, “Oh shit.”   
  
“Captain?” Spock says. There is an indiscernible inflection in his voice, one that Jim recognizes as fear. Jim turns to where Spock is looking, except Spock is looking right at him, right through him. Spock quickly steps off the pad. “Where is the Captain, Mr. Scot?”   
  
Scotty is stammering, his hands flying across his console. The transporter room erupts into what Jim thinks is panicked flailing and nearly starts laughing until he remembers that no one can see him, which is pretty damn concerning. He waves wildly at Scotty and at Spock, who look right through him. Jim grins, amused.   
  
Then he sees Leonard.   
  
Leonard is flushed, his earlier scowl morphing into something uglier, threatening, like a sudden storm in the desert. His knuckles are white around his arms. And then Leonard is no longer over in the back of the room, but right next to Scotty, hands gripping Scotty’s collar. Over the din of the security detail shouting protocol instructions, Leonard roars, “You lost him?”   
  
Jim bursts out laughing at this, at the alarmed look on Scotty’s face, because Bones is damn frightening when he wants to be. But he stops, when he hears the wounded sound slip from the back of Leonard’s throat, and then Leonard is crumpled on the floor, Spock standing over him.   
  
“Please escort the doctor to his quarters,” Spock says quietly. When security picks Leonard up and leaves, Jim follows.   
  
  
\--   
  
  
Jim finds Leonard in the hallways, already looking exhausted, and occasionally shuddering like he’s on a large drug cocktail. He trails Leonard, finds him stopping in front of Jim’s quarters and after glancing around furtively, types in his CMO override. For a moment, pride for this blatant disregard for rules swells through Jim like a wave before it ebbs away to nothing. Leonard looks empty, his normally expressive face tight.   
  
When Jim does enter his own quarters, Leonard is already in his bed, curled up in the other side of Jim’s bed, his fingers splayed on the surface of Jim’s pillow. His drawers are half opened, clothing peeking out and trailing over the sides. Jim makes his way to the side where he usually sleeps, and is disappointed when the bed does not dip where he sits. Leonard is wrapped around an old shirt of Jim’s, a favoured shirt that he wore constantly at the Academy.   
  
“Bones?” Jim whispers. Leonard is unnaturally still under the covers. Jim moves to touch Leonard’s cheek, but his fingers slip through Leonard like air.   
  
  
  
\-   
  
  
  
Jim watches Leonard sleep. He feels slightly creepy, but there’s nothing he else he can do. He does not think of why Leonard chooses to go to his quarters, and tries not to dwell on how he’s clutching Jim’s shirt with tense fingers.   
  
“Sorry, Bones,” Jim tells Leonard. “I don’t know how to fix this.” He looks at Leonard before slipping through the door. Maybe Engineering would have some answers.   
  
The image of Leonard curled in his bed is strangely comforting.   
  
  
  
\--   
  
  
  
The Enterprise is strangely alive for something made of curved steel.   
  
The shell from the planet glows a deep red in the Engineering. Jim watches as the engines of the Enterprise pulse in response. Scotty is there, as is Chekov, and they are arguing, mathematical theories rapidly tossed between the two of them.  He grips the shell, an anchor, and shouts equations at them until his voice is as hoarse as theirs.  They do not see him, of course, but Jim feels better when they eventually suggest his equations, testing them and correcting them.  They do not work, but Jim is satisfied that they've tried, at the most.   
  
The Enterprise flows in dark red colors, swirls of orange when Scotty speaks. Jim is reminded of the Bible stories of Egypt, and how the river flowed red with blood against the Egyptians. The Enterprise is the Amazon of space, fierce and protective. So why is it that he is here, and unseen, and Bones is alone?   
  
The Enterprise does not answer him, but Jim does not expect her to. He thinks her silence is only fair, since he’s never really told Bones –   
  
  
\---   
  
  
  
Jim eventually realizes there time does not hold him to its rules. He fades in and out, blending into the walls of the Enterprise. He watches as Chapel and M’Benga arrange shifts for Leonard, and admires their loyalty and kindness. Chekov works around the clock in the transporter room, and Jim thinks he feels the Enterprise’s approval at his youthful brilliance.   
  
Jim can only describe the feeling as floating. He does not weigh anything, does not take up space, and more troublingly, does not exist, but somehow this thought is comforting to him. The weight of his crew’s lives is no longer in his hands, and for a moment, he is glad, relieved. He can breathe easier, and the thought flashes across his mind, lightening quick, about how easy this was, pleasant and quiet, just him and the Enterprise existing together, and he could do this, live like this.   
  
He banishes the thought from his mind just as quickly, when he reappears next to Leonard, who is in his office in Sickbay. He is just sitting there without a sound, patient PADDS spread across his desk, some in mid-notation. Jim can tell Leonard is trying to put on a semblance of normalcy, but his eyes red, and his fingers tremble.   
  
This is the instance in which Jim longs to go home.   
  
  
  
\----  
  
  
  
Jim will never tell anyone, but when he sits on the outer hull of the Enterprise, with the stars flashing by him and actually in reach, he feels utterly incomplete. He has the universe in his grasp, the absolute breathtaking beauty of the darkness highlighted by the tails of passing comets near his fingertips, and all he can see is Bones’ face lighting up, even though he hates space.   
  
He smoothes his hands over the curved surface of the Enterprise, and tries not to think of the curve of Bones’ neck.   
  
  
  
\----   
  
  
  
  
Bones goes missing. Jim hasn’t seen him at all, and since he doesn’t need doors or lifts, he just thinks his location. Bones is staring out the observation deck, and concern creeps up the back of Jim’s neck. Bones hates this area, with space so blatantly exposed. Leonard is pressed against the glass, his back to Jim. On the floor next to him is a small, black box and a little stained napkin. Jim goes cold when he recognizes it.   
  
They were grown men, broken and put together incorrectly from their circumstances, each with more baggage than they could ever imagine. But for all of that, Jim can’t think of a time where there hasn’t been understanding and respect, and even a form of love between the two of them.   
  
It was not a whim. It will never be a whim.   
  
They had gone for lunch together, sometime back in the Academy. This was not out of the ordinary. They had ordered beers. They had some weird vegan lunch that Bones secretly despised, but Jim knew he picked because Jim was allergic to everything. Bones had looked at him with such an unabashed expression, relaxed, a slight smile curling around the corners of his mouth from across the table, goading him over their food, and Jim realizes that he’s fallen, and fallen hard.   
  
He never says anything though, because a week later, Jocelyn ruins it for him.   
  
It’s so quiet Jim thinks he imagines it, but then the stuttered choke occurs again, and Leonard sags against the glass. “I never told you, Jim.” There’s another hitch in his voice. “I’m so sorry. I can’t. Not by myself.”   
  
The defeat is so final.  Leonard slumps down heavily onto the ground, box cradled in between his hands. Jim knows what crying looks like from behind. The pain in his chest intensifies until he feels like vomiting.   
  
He never told him either.   
  
He closes his eyes, thinks of Bones, oh _Bones,_ grieving and alone. Thinks of Joanna, who has Bones’ smile and scrunched expressions, thinks of how he has a matching ring for himself, hidden in Bones’ room, of all things. Thinks of Bones on that day, that he’s the one, he’s never had to look because he’s been there all along –   
  
“Bones,” he breathes. When he opens his eyes, the transporter room comes into view.   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Temporary character "death" but really, nobody dies. They just misplace Jim for a while. Themes borrowed heavily from TOS' The Mark of Gideon. Also found on lj [here](http://f-vikus.livejournal.com/10775.html).


End file.
